Complicated
by ignitethenight
Summary: Mark's stuck in a class he never asked for. And he might find more there than he ever expected. Teen!MarkRoger and some teen!MaureenBenny. AUish. Rated T for language, and some mature themes. Mention of suicide.
1. Paradise? It's Complicated

Author's Note: As always, I don't own RENT or the characters. I also do not own any of Idina Menzel's lyrics, or any other quotes used. Some parts of this were written for speedrent – and a sequel is in the works, in case anyone is interested. (Yeah, I'm excited to be writing in this 'verse again. Sue me. :P)

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**Paradise? It's Complicated**

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**- - -**

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"Shut up."

A giggle. "No, seriously, what are you doing here?"

"Shut _up_."

"'Cause if you're looking for tech, you're way off, okay? It's, like, three periods away – "

"Maureen, do you _ever_ shut the fuck up?!"

Maureen plopped down next to him on the dusty black floor. "Don't hiss at me. It's not my fault you went to the wrong classroom."

Mark tiredly put his head in his hand. "I'm not in the wrong classroom."

Maureen glanced at him quickly before returning to scan the other students gathering in the theatre. "The wrong period, then? The wrong century?"

Mark sighed. "I knew this would happen."

"What?"

"I _knew_ that you would just have to be in this class and make my life a living hell."

"Hey!"

Mark looked at her. "You're the one teasing me. You don't have the right to be offended."

A small smile crossed Maureen's face. "I honestly thought there was a mistake. I've known you since we were eleven and you've never voluntarily gotten on a stage."

"Yeah, well," Mark said, looking around at all the strangers gathering. Well, strangers to him. They all looked as if they'd known each other in a past life or something. "Apparently everyone needs to take a fucking fine arts course. I _was_ set up for pre-calc but then stupid Mrs. Donovan informed me I needed one more art credit to graduate. And," he said, intercepting Maureen's next question, "Art and tech were filled up. So I'm stuck," he finished glumly, picking at a shoelace.

Maureen looked at him sympathetically, which just made him want to punch somebody. He didn't need sympathy – it was just a stupid _class_, how hard could it be? Was he really that one-dimensional no one could see him in drama?

"Well," she said. "It's really not that bad. You might like it."

He nodded. "Uh-huh."

"Really," she insisted. "It'll be fun. We'll be together, we can partner up for all the improv stuff – "

"What the hell is improv?"

"And, I mean, we've already kissed, so we could do the romantic scenes – "

"Maureen!" Mark looked around frantically, then lowered his voice. "That was _one time_. In Nanette's closet. It doesn't count."

Maureen grinned. "What, you don't think you were good? Don't worry, you're a good kisser."

"It's not that," Mark said, looking at the floor. "Just – I don't like my personal life getting spread around. Okay?"

Maureen laughed. "You don't want me fucking up your game! You don't want people to think I'm your girlfriend!" She threw an arm around Mark's shoulder and whispered in his ear. "That's so cute. But don't you know that unavailable guys get more attention from girls?"

Mark squirmed away. "You're impossible."

"But you love me," Maureen said, looking towards the doorway of the auditorium, and the boy who was walking through it. She brightened. "Benny!"

Mark swung around. _Benny_ was taking this class? Awesome. Another outsider to share his misery.

"Hey, Maureen," Benny said, smiling and sitting down next to Maureen. "Mark, what the hell are you doing here?"

"My artistic sensibilities have been stifled by the man for much too long," Mark mumbled. "I had to finally break free by signing up for Drama 12."

Benny laughed. "What bullshit. Tech was full?"

"Tech was full," Mark confirmed. He looked over at the teacher, a wild-looking woman in an ugly print skirt that swirled around her ankles. The pink of it made his eyes ache, and the jangling of her bracelets hurt his ears. And she was bent over a boom box. Mark shuddered to think of what was about to be played by this woman. He looked at her again. Definitely the Grateful Dead. Fuck.

Benny and Maureen were leaned in close to each other, talking in low voices. Sure, for Benny she'd be quiet. Mark sighed lightly, and the teacher turned around, skirt swooshing.

"All right, class," she said, clapping gently. Mark was interested to see everyone settle down immediately, staring at her attentively. Definitely a change from his other classes.

"We're going to start by arranging ourselves in a circle – " She swung her hands in circles. "Come on, get going, do it now."

Mark looked around, deciding to stay right where he was. The group formed a haphazard circle, Mark sitting a little bit on the outside. He didn't mind.

"Okay, next we'll all introduce ourselves – when we get to you, say your name, and a descriptive word that starts with the same letter as the first letter of your name!"

She was sickeningly enthusiastic. Maureen glanced at him and grinned. Mark narrowed his eyes at her, then caught himself and grinned hugely. He wasn't going to let her enjoy his misery.

"Then we'll do a few trust exercises, see how you guys interact with each other – because trust is _essential_ when working on the stage, you _have_ to trust the people you're working with. And we'll end up with a little meditation."

Mark stared at her disbelievingly. She was a fucking kook.

"Okay, let's start! You!" She said, pointing dramatically to a shy-looking girl across from Mark. As the girl stammered out her answer, there was a resounding clang from the back of the theatre. The group turned as one.

"Sorry," the boy walking in said, hurrying down the aisle. "I didn't know which class I was supposed to be in until the last minute, and …" He stopped, looking amused. "Do I need to do penance or something?"

"Not today," the teacher answered wryly. "Come join the circle …?"

"Roger," the boy supplied, walking over and plopping down gracelessly next to Mark, arranging his long limbs. "I was supposed to be in Band, but …" He shrugged, and the teacher smiled.

"Save it for the circle," she said, and pointed to a girl sitting next to Maureen, who was watching the newcomer with interest.

Mark glanced at the boy beside him. He was wearing tattered jeans with a chain hanging from the pocket and a Ramones t-shirt. He had short brown hair and his nails were bitten practically to the quick. Mark looked up, and saw he'd been caught staring. "Um. Hi."

"Hi," the boy said, leaning towards Mark and keeping his voice low. "Are you another refugee, or did you actually want to take this class?"

Mark grinned. "Tech was full."

They boy grinned back. "So you actually _wanted_ the geekier option. Interesting."

Mark looked at him, unsure if he should be offended or not. He decided it was okay when the boy lightly bumped his shoulder with his own.

"I'm Roger," he said, glancing quickly at the teacher. Maureen was currently describing herself as masterful.

"I'm Mark," Mark said, smiling. 

There was a sudden silence, and Mark looked up to find all eyes trained on him. Dammit.

"Um, I'm Mark."

The teacher gave him what she must have supposed was an encouraging look. "And a word that describes you?"

Mark looked at Benny, desperate for an answer to come to him. What was he supposed to say again?

"Um … uh …"

Maureen piped up cheerily, "Milky!"

The class laughed, and Mark wondered if he had a nickname for the semester now. He shot Maureen a look.

He was going to kill her.

- - - - - - - - - - -

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"So, are you liking it more?"

"No."

"Mark, come on, I know you like it."

Mark sighed. He didn't like the class any more than the first day – and he didn't think their teacher was any less of a freak. But there was something to be said for not having any homework, and for basically dicking around for forty-five minutes with your friends.

He actually found himself looking forward to drama class now – even though Maureen and Benny were all over each other now. Not _dating_ though – they were both emphatic about that – they just spent all their time together and could only talk about each other.

But they weren't going out. Right. 

Mark usually ended up doing whatever stupid game the teacher thought up with Roger. Usually they'd pretend they were acting when the teacher came by – the rest of the time they just talked. 

"We're learning more about acting doing this than if we actually did what we were supposed to," Roger grinned one Friday. 

Mark laughed. "Yeah. Actually, we should get extra credit."

"Oh, yeah." Roger laughed, too. "We might even be up for an award at the end of the year."

Mark was about to lean forward and ask Roger to go to a movie that weekend. Maureen and Benny would be going out on a not-date, he was sure, and the prospect of a weekend alone was vastly unappealing. But just as he took a breath to speak Ms. Dalaine appeared out of nowhere.

"I take you two have been working on your scene?"

Roger grinned, and Mark nodded, trying to not look at Roger and keep a straight face.

"Then I take it you also have the scene memorized?"

Mark looked up sharply, then nodded.

"Good," she said crisply, looking over all the other students. "Then I take it you won't have any problem presenting it on Monday."

Roger nodded, but Mark felt a horrified look freeze on his face. "Present? Do you mean, like, perform? On the stage?"

Ms. Dalaine smiled at him. "It is drama class, Mark. You expected something different?"

Swallowing, Mark shook his head, turning back to Roger when she turned to pounce on her next victims. Roger got a good look at his expression and laughed.

"Do you need the nurse?"

"What I need is a case of chicken pox or something. Immediately."

Roger looked at him. "Do you have stage fright?"

"No!" Mark said, looking around to make sure Maureen wasn't nearby. "I don't. I've gotten on stage before, I just don't like it. Besides, we're not ready, at all." Mark glanced around the room. "And I don't relish the thought of making an asshole of myself in front of all the drama freaks."

Roger chuckled. "So says the Tech freak."

Mark gave him a wry smile. "Hey."

"Aw, c'mon, Mark, we're all freaks of one kind or another. It's what makes us human."

Mark smiled, but sobered quickly as he stared over at Maureen and Benny. Maureen was laughing as she yelled at Benny for cheating on her. Roger followed his gaze.

"You like her?"

Mark shook his head. "No. We've been friends for a really long time. That would just be … weird. No, I'm just … well, not nervous, exactly, but …" Mark sighed, then grinned at Roger. "I'm fucking nervous, all right? Feel free to mock me."

Roger looked at him. "I won't. We could come here after school, if you want, and work on the scene. Remember Dalaine said anyone could if they wanted?"

Mark thought a moment, then smiled. "Yeah, okay. That sounds good. Thanks."

Roger smiled at him. "No problem. So we'll meet here at, what, 3:15?"

"Sure."

The bell rang, and both boys looked up towards the intercom before turning back to each other. Mark suddenly felt a little nervous. 

"Listen, uh, the lovebirds over there are probably gonna ditch me again this weekend. Do you want to, um, catch a movie with me or something?"

Roger grinned, leaping lightly off the stage to grab his backpack from one of the theatre's chairs. "Sure."

"Great," Mark grinned, and Roger lifted his backpack up to him. They both paused.

"Well," Mark said, taking his bag and feeling unaccountably awkward, "I'll see you after school."

"Yeah." Roger nodded and turned away. Mark felt a hand fall on his shoulder.

"So, you and Roger Davis."

Mark swiveled around to look at Maureen. "What about it?"

She shrugged. "People talk about him, that's all."

"I don't care," he snapped, shouldering his pack, feeling annoyed.

"I never said you did, don't get all bitchy," Maureen said. "I just know you don't like people talking about your 'personal life' – and being with Roger is a gossip guarantee, that's all."

Mark raised his eyebrows. "You're being weird. I'm not _with_ Roger."

Maureen looked down the red aisle leading to the door Roger had just disappeared through. "Like I said, people say things about him."

Mark sighed, turning away. "So?"

"So maybe he doesn't know you're not with him."

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Forget Math class. And History. Mark was barely able to find the familiar rooms, let alone actually pay any attention to what was going on. He just watched the clock, stomach feeling a little tight and sick whenever he thought of meeting Roger after school.

What did he care what people said, anyway? He'd been called every name in the book, including any number of charming gay slurs, and he couldn't really give a shit. Fuck them.

But Roger thinking it was a little different. Over the past while a friendship had sprung up between them, and Mark liked it. He knew Roger was a big reason he actually looked forward to Drama now. They had an ease together that Mark had never really had with anyone else – not even with Maureen or Benny. He never felt scared about saying anything to Roger. He wasn't nervous about laughing at Roger, and was never nervous about Roger laughing at him. It was like they both understood before anything got said.

And Roger was fun, always knowing exactly what could make Mark laugh hysterically when they were supposed to be quietly meditating at the end of class. He was nice, too.

Mark didn't want that to get fucked up. Plus, if Roger did … if Roger thought he was interested or anything, he didn't want to hurt Roger's feelings, either.

Mark let his head fall to his desk with a loud thunk when the last bell of the day rang. He didn't want to deal with this – he didn't want things getting weird or complicated. He just wanted a friend.

Mark slowly walked to his locker and gathered his books one by one, stopping to wipe the dust off the top shelf and fix the drooping side of a movie ad he'd taped to the locker door. He sighed, knowing he was stalling. And that he was going to be late.

As he turned, he caught a faraway glimpse of Benny and Maureen disappearing through the school doors together. A flash of resentment burned through him – Maureen ditched him and then dropped this stupid bomb on him. She should have kept her stupid mouth shut. What did she care what he did, anyway? She was always with stupid Benny ….

Mark sighed and started shuffling towards the theatre, noticing that the halls were rapidly emptying, kids leaving for home or holed up in locker rooms getting ready for practice. When he reached the door to the theatre, he took a deep breath. Fuck it. Maureen was probably just full of shit, anyway. He'd act as if everything was normal. Everything _was_ normal.

He opened the door and immediately heard soft strains of music. Mark slipped through the door and closed it with a gentle click before turning to walk towards the stage.

The auditorium lights weren't on – just the stage's everyday fluorescent lights, humming a little overhead. The stage looked bathed in light, a light blue that gave everything a hushed feeling. 

Roger was sitting on the edge of the stage, feet dangling and a guitar resting in his lap. His head was down, immersed as his fingers slid over the strings of the instrument, looking oblivious to the world. He stopped for a moment, then played what sounded like the same notes over again.

Mark walked forward slowly, watching Roger's face blank in its concentration. Mark got closer, almost to the stage, and Roger again stopped, pausing before playing the same notes – maybe a little higher than before. Then he opened his mouth and sang along under his breath, his voice soft and gentle. But Mark could still hear.

"_Remember me for my passion…_"

His fingers seemed stiff as they played, like it hurt Roger a little to coax the music from it. Mark froze, fascinated.

"_The paradise that I imagined…_"

The lights glinted off the guitar, off Roger's longish brown hair. There was another pause in the music, and Roger looked to the ceiling, as if searching for the words he needed in the lights, and when his head fell forward again he saw Mark.

"Hey," he said, smiling. "You're late. I thought you were the one who was nervous."

Mark stared, feeling heat running through him. "I … I didn't know you played guitar. Or sang, for that matter."

"Yup." Roger said, sounding light and cheerful and unmoved as he lifted the guitar off his lap and carefully placed it on the floor behind him. Mark had thought he heard real heartbreak in Roger's voice, in the words, but now he seemed as normal as ever. "I'm gonna be a rock star."

Mark laughed, but quickly quieted when he saw Roger's face. He was smiling, but Mark could see the earnestness there. Roger meant it, even as he laughed at it. Mark licked his lips.

"Well, it was – beautiful," Mark said, swallowing. "The music, and the words."

"You heard them?" Roger said, smiling. "It's not even near what I want it to be yet, but that's going to be the chorus."

"Well," Mark said, struggling for the words, "It was really good. Poignant."

"Thanks," Roger said, looking away for a second before catching Mark's eye. "I figure it's something everyone can relate to." Roger got a faraway look in his eyes, making Mark feel a little left behind. What was Roger seeing that he couldn't? "I mean – everyone wants to leave their mark, be remembered for what they loved the most … never dying, because what you've created … it's forever."

Roger looked up at him, back in the same room again, eyes shining. "You know what I mean?"

Mark could only nod silently, watching as Roger pulled himself up.

"Come on, you're the one who was freaking out," Roger said, teasing in his voice. "Let's actually get some work done."

Mark nodded again, not smiling as he walked up the short flight of stairs to the stage. Roger stood in the light, waiting for him as he approached slowly.

They started their scene, reading off their papers when they needed to. But Mark knew it was a waste – everything flew out of his mind the moment he finished saying it. He'd screw it up on Monday, he knew. 

But it didn't matter so much anymore. Watching Roger saying the lines, every so often looking earnestly into Mark's eyes as he said a line or breaking character and laughing – once in a moment of silence smiling at Mark, hair falling in his face a little bit – 

Well. Things had just got a lot more complicated, that's all.


	2. Where You Lead

**Where You Lead**

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"I would have thought you'd call to cancel to work on our scene."

Roger's voice, coming at him from behind, had a little laughter in it. Mark grinned and turned around.

"Hey, watching a movie will inspire me. I'm not here for recreation – I'm here to watch the acting and hone my craft."

Roger chuckled, shaking his head and turning in the direction of the movie theatre. "You are such a smartass."

"Thanks."

Mark grinned, just watching Roger's smiling face as they walked towards the theatre. He was surprised to find that he didn't feel any weirdness. After Roger had left, Mark had sat alone on the stage until Ms. Dalaine had come in, shocked to see him and immediately insisting he leave.

When Mark emerged into the halls, he was shocked to see it was already five-thirty. He'd stayed there, just silently thinking, for almost an hour after Roger left. And his mother was going to kill him for not calling.

Mark sighed, eyes trained to the school's pay phone. But at the last minute he swiveled, striding towards the school's doors instead. He needed to talk to Maureen – she could stop hanging onto Benny for half an hour, and he could call his mother from there.

When he got there, Maureen answered the door, smiling. "Hey."

"Hey. Is Benny here?"

"Come in," Maureen said, stepping away. "What? Oh, no, he's not – he left about ten minutes ago, said he needed to study for English." She rolled her eyes, then looked back at him, grinning. "You wanna stay for dinner?"

"Sure," Mark agreed, looking around and deciding Maureen's parents weren't home. "Can I just call my mom?"

"Sure," Maureen said, waving her hand and starting up the stairs to her bedroom. "Just use the phone in the kitchen – I'll wait for you upstairs."

"Okay. Thanks."

When Mark entered Maureen's room a few moments later, Maureen was stretched out on her bed and reading a comic book. She sat up when she saw him.

"Hey! So, what brought you here tonight?"

Mark flopped down beside her, stretching out and turning to look up at her. "What do people say about Roger?"

Maureen smirked a little. "You sure you want to know?"

Mark hit her side. "I asked, didn't I?"

Maureen stopped smiling. "For one thing, people think he's gay. Nobody's ever seen him with a girl."

Mark scoffed. "Like that's reliable evidence."

Maureen shrugged. "Whatever. Then there's that year he, like, disappeared." She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Apparently he killed a kid."

Mark laughed in her face. "That's ridiculous! Where'd you hear that?"

She looked away from him, a haughty look on her face. "Mark. It's, like, common knowledge." She shot him a look. "If you take the time to listen."

"I listen."

"Yeah, right."

Mark furrowed his brow. "I do."

"You _hear_," Maureen said. "That's different from listening."

Mark thought about that for a minute. It was true he was usually reading, or writing, or studying. And it always drove him nuts when his English teacher would ask them what the author meant by this word or that word. They just meant what they _said_. Right?

Mark sighed. He didn't want to tell Maureen about the hour or so in the theatre – didn't want to tell her about listening to Roger play his guitar and sing. He changed the subject.

"You sure it's okay for me to stay for dinner?"

"Yup." Maureen stretched her arms, then lay down beside him, turning so they faced each other.

"Benny won't be jealous?"

Maureen snorted. "Like I said, he's studying for English."

"You're not listening, Maureen," Mark smirked. "That's not what I asked."

Maureen blew out a frustrated air, turning to look at the ceiling. "Like he needs to study anyway."

Mark yawned. "It's not like it's just about grades. Benny's gonna write the next great American novel."

Maureen laughed, turning her body over quickly to look at him again. "You're kidding, right?"

"What?"

Maureen stared at him like she couldn't believe he could be so dense. "Don't fool yourself. Benny wants money, and he gets the best marks in English. He thinks he has a formula. He doesn't want to write a great novel – he just wants to write something that will sell."

"That's not true," Mark said, frowning, and Maureen snorted again. "Besides, is that any way to talk about your boyfriend?"

Maureen flipped over again, not looking at Mark. "God. I told you. He's not my boyfriend. We're not going out."

Mark rolled his eyes. "And I'm not Jewish."

Maureen sighed, rolling back onto her back to look up to the ceiling. "Look, Benny and I – we have fun, you know? But we're _seventeen_. It's stupid to limit yourself to one person." She grinned. "Benny and I have fun, we always have a date on Friday nights, but nothing's complicated, you know?" Maureen looked over at Mark. "Easy and fun. Nothing's better than that."

Mark looked at her silently, then turned to look at the ceiling, too. He wasn't too sure about that.

Mark looked at Roger now, who looked like he was frowning at the movie theatre. "What?"

Roger turned to him, scowling. "Fuck. I got the times wrong. The show we wanted isn't playing for another two hours."

Mark looked at the theatre as if he could change the times with his mind. "Seriously?"

Roger looked away. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. We'll just … do something else."

"Like what?" Roger asked, looking around the crowded mall.

"Well," Mark said. "We could just hang out here."

"The mall?" Roger looked at him quickly, then grinned. "No way. I hate the fucking mall."

Mark laughed too. "Okay. But they have that ice cream place here – we could blow all our ticket money there."

Roger shook his head, then looked at Mark a minute.

"What?"

"Well, look. My mom gets ice cream, I know we have some in our freezer." Roger grinned, flashing his teeth. "And it's a hell of a lot cheaper than the shit they sell here. Wanna come over?"

Mark stared at him a moment before catching himself and looking down. "Okay. Sure. Thanks."

Roger grinned. "Great."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

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It turned out Roger had a car. Looking at him, Mark thought he shouldn't have been surprised. But he kind of was. It was an old-looking, run down little shit brown car, but it was Roger's.

"My mom gave it to me when she bought her last car," he said, tying Mark's bike into the trunk. "I was like, fourteen, so it's not like I could drive it then." He smiled. "But it sure made me work my ass off getting a part time job the second I hit sixteen so I could afford the insurance."

"Well, it's great," Mark said, climbing in as Roger got in on his side of the car. "My parents won't let me drive yet."

Roger shot him a look. "Really?"

Mark flushed a little. "If I cared, I'd make a bigger fuss. But I don't, so …" Mark shrugged. "It keeps my mom off my back."

Roger chuckled. "Cool."

He started the car, and they both lapsed into silence for the short ride to Roger's house. Mark snuck occasional looks at Roger, thinking it should probably feel more uncomfortable, riding in Roger's car like this, neither of them talking.

Mark sunk back into his seat. But it wasn't uncomfortable. It actually felt nice.

When they got to Roger's house, Roger got out first. Mark climbed out a little hesitatingly, taking in the sights. Roger lived in a nice neighborhood, in a small house that was painted a grey-ish blue. It didn't look spectacular, but Mark couldn't help giving a little exclamation when Roger led him to the back of the house.

"Holy shit."

Roger grinned at him. "My mom is a gardening freak. Every spring I have to get all muddy and disgusting helping her plant seeds. I hate it. But it turns out nice, doesn't it?"

Mark nodded, following Roger into the house. The garden was beautiful, a huge burst of color against the grayness of the house. The backdoor led straight into Roger's kitchen.

"Um, should I take off my shoes or something?" Mark asked, hesitating.

"Nah," Roger said, not even looking at him as he zeroed in on the fridge. He opened the freezer door, cool drifts of white flying out at him, and started rummaging. "Score! I knew we had some."

"What?" Mark asked, sitting down at the kitchen table. The kitchen was white with a big window, lit well, and felt homey. Mark looked down at the plastic-looking sheet covering the table and chuckled. His mother would have a heart attack.

"Cookies and cream," Roger said with a relish. "The two best junk foods in the world contained in one special little container." He set the tub of ice cream on the counter and started opening and drawers, getting out bowls and spoons.

"Thanks," Mark said, smiling as Roger handed him a bowl and then sat down across from him. "This is great."

"The ice cream is great," Roger agreed after swallowing a huge spoonful. "But it's not going to kill a lot of time for us. And I get the feeling you're in a 'killing time' kind of mood."

Mark grinned sheepishly. "I know I should be studying our scene. But I don't even want to think about it."

Roger waved his spoon. "Fuck if I care. I know _my_ lines."

"Asshole."

Roger smiled and dug into his ice cream again. They ate silently for a few minutes, then Roger looked up, staring at Mark. Mark caught him and smiled uneasily.

"What? Do I have shit on my face?"

Roger sneered. Mark laughed.

"Right. Don't answer that."

Mark swiped at his face and Roger grinned. "No, I just thought of a great place we could go. And it's almost six …"

"What does the time matter?"

Roger smiled. "You'll see. What do you say, you wanna come? Do you trust me?"

Mark scooped up the last of his ice cream and shoved it in his mouth. "You just lead the way. I'll follow."

- - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - -

"School?"

Roger parked and cut the engine, a little smile on his face.

"Seriously. You took me to school. On a Saturday. Are you trying to kill me?"

Roger's eyes twinkled, biting back a laugh. "You said you trusted me."

"And apparently I made a mistake."

"You didn't," Roger assured him, grinning.

"But what are we doing here?"

"Just trust my infinite knowledge and follow me," Roger said, hopping out of the car and turning to wait for Mark. As soon as Mark was beside him, Roger turned on his heel and started walking towards the school building, wind whipping his hair and looking back every so often to make sure Mark was still following him. He led them to one side of the building, then turned to Mark and grinned.

"You still up for this?"

"Yeah," Mark said, looking at him questioningly. Then he looked up and saw the fire escape, and looked back at Roger in time to see him start climbing up it.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered quietly to himself, but quickly followed Roger, climbing up the six flights of black metal stairs that led to the top of the building. When they reached the last stair, Roger turned to him, and Mark gave him a look.

_What now, hotshot?_

But Roger just grinned and reached his hands high in the air, leaping up and grasping the very top of the building. Mark swallowed as he watched Roger dangle, his legs scrabbling awkwardly before he managed to swing and haul his body up onto the roof. A moment later his head peeked out at Mark, and he reached down a hand.

"Come on, it's wicked up here."

Inwardly shaking his head, Mark reached up and took the offered hand, jumping and reaching up with the other to grab onto the roof. A few minutes of grunting and hanging later, Mark managed to swing his body up and clumsily pull himself onto the rooftop. He collapsed on the cement, breathing hard. 

"Well," he gasped. "At least I know you're not trying to kill me."

Roger laughed out loud, and settled himself into a sitting position, legs crossed and arms behind him. "Quit being such a wimp and come look at this."

Mark pulled himself up a little and crawled over to Roger, slumping down beside him. Then he looked up and felt the breath leave his body.

They could see for miles up here. There were just little houses and rolling hills and a huge blue expanse of sky. Roger looked at Mark's expression and smiled, turning back to the view.

"See? Told you. And the sun's gonna set soon."

Mark drank in the view for a while, then turned back to Roger. "How did you ever find this place? How to get up here?"

"I was this rebellious little snot kid and one day I decided I was gonna make everybody pay." Roger grinned. "I came up here, all sweaty and dramatic, and was gonna jump off the side of the building. But then I saw this view, and …" Roger paused. "I don't know. I just calmed down. I always came here after my little sessions with Donovan."

Mark laughed. "You see her, too?"

The smile never left Roger's face, but it tightened a little. "Yeah. Your dad dies, you get an automatic pass to the school shrink's office."

"Your …"

"Yeah."

Mark swallowed. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Roger said, his voice tight. "Shit happens."

A silence fell over them as they watched each other, then looked at the sky.

"Maureen says you killed a kid." Mark blurted out suddenly, then blushed furiously. Where the fuck had _that_ come from?

But Roger laughed, and Mark relaxed. "Maureen huh? That friend of yours has a mouth on her."

"So is it true?" Mark asked, smiling.

"What do you think?"

"I think it's bullshit."

Roger shifted slightly, leaning more heavily on his elbows. "Well, you're right. It's bullshit."

"So, why do – "

Roger turned to look at him and grinned. "I don't look like a big bad axe murderer, do I?"

Mark shook his head, smiling, the setting sun's rays feeling warm on his face. "No."

Roger sighed. "When my dad died … well, like I said, I acted like a little shit. But I was a kid, you know? Ten years old. And to this day I have to go see the school shrink because of these supposed anger 'issues'." He looked over at Mark, and everything felt normal and good again. "I actually got thrown out of my last school, so I guess 'they' weren't too far off the mark with the whole anger thing."

"What did you do?"

"I threw a bible at my religion teacher."

Mark laughed, looking at Roger, the way the orange light surrounding them softened his features. "Why?"

Roger was still smiling, but Mark saw that seriousness there again, like when he had said he was going to be a rock star. "He told the class that people who committed suicide went to hell."

They were both silent then, looking out into the horizon, blue sky and clouds pink and orange and gold, a balloon with a real estate advertisement painted on floating far in the distance, bright red against the light blue and pink.

Mark looked at Roger again, staring out into the horizon, and thought about what he'd said earlier, and felt a little stab of fear over it, over how he felt right now.

Because right now, Roger could jump off the end of the world and Mark still thought he would follow him.


	3. Setting The Scene

**Setting The Scene**

- - -

- - -

On Monday, Roger caught up to Mark as he was opening the door into the auditorium. "Hey, how ya feeling?"

Mark forced a smile. He'd spent almost every moment after Roger drove him home Saturday night studying lines. He was going to fail an English test because of it, too, he knew it. But he didn't think all that attempted memorizing had done any good. No need to tell Roger that, though. 

"Fine," he said, walking down the aisle and spotting Maureen and Benny sitting together in the third row. "I feel great."

Roger looked at him, then looked away as he smiled. "You fucking liar. You protest too much, Mark."

Mark ignored him, waving when he saw Maureen look up and heading over to sit beside her, Roger close behind.

"Hey, guys," he said. He noticed that Benny had his hand on Maureen's thigh. He caught her eye, glanced at that hand, and then looked up again, raising an eyebrow. She smirked and shook her head.

"So, Mark," she said, looking him up and down shrewdly. "You're looking milkier than usual. Are you scared shitless yet?"

Mark quickly glanced at Roger. "Shut up, Maureen."

"What?" Maureen asked innocently. "Just 'cause that one time in sixth grade – "

"Maureen, _shut up_!" Mark interrupted frantically as Benny cracked up.

"Oh, man, I remember that now! Lazar actually fucking _picked you up_ and dragged you to the bathroom – "

"What?" Roger laughed, startled. 

"Didn't you know?" Maureen grinned. "Mark has terrible stage fright. I nearly died when I saw he was in this class."

Roger looked questioningly at Mark, who threw a deadly look Maureen's way. "She's full of shit. I don't have stage fright."

Benny stared. "Mark. You puked at our sixth-grade graduation."

Mark blushed furiously. "I had the flu! And … and it was just a little …" Mark trailed off, feeling pathetic as his three friends laughed. "Fuck."

Roger leaned his head close to Mark's, still grinning, but not laughing like a couple of fucking hyenas like those traitors Maureen and Benny.

"It's okay, Mark," Roger said quietly, Mark leaning in closer and straining to hear. "The first time I went to an open mic night I never even made it up to the stage."

Mark pulled back and looked at him, smiling a little. "Really?"

Roger nodded, face close but staring at the stage in front of them. "I chickened out the second they called my name and ran for it."

Mark laughed quietly, feeling like he didn't have quite enough breath for it. "No way."

Roger smiled. "Yup." He turned to look at Mark, staring seriously at him. "But the next week I went back and got on that stage. I sang one song, and then got the hell out of there. I still get nervous, but …" He shrugged. "It's not as bad."

Mark looked at the stage, trying not to think about getting up on it in the next forty-five minutes. He didn't have stage fright. He just … didn't like being on stage. Mark turned when he heard Roger chuckle and felt the other boy leaning towards him again, his face close.

"Besides, I'll be up there with you. You'll be fine."

Mark didn't have time for anything other than a bright smile before the bell rang and Ms. Dalaine stepped onto the stage.

"Okay, I hope you've got your scenes ready, 'cause I'm ready to watch."

- - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - -

Mark sat in the auditorium, marveling at how all the other kids were able to just get up there, say their lines, and then sit back down again. As if it was nothing. Mark didn't mind being the center of attention when he chose to be – but being put on a stage and having to say lines you were _supposed_ to have memorized felt a lot more nerve-wracking.

He didn't pay attention to how many people had gone; but his head snapped to attention when he heard Ms. Dalaine say his and Roger's names.

"Okay, boys," she said, turning around from her seat in the front row and grinning. "Let's see what you've got."

Roger stood and walked easily up the stairs and onto the stage, disappearing behind one of the wings a moment and then reemerging dragging one of the small tables from the back to the centre of the stage. Mark stood slowly, watching Roger as he approached the stage. He'd be fine.

Mark hopped up onto one end of the table, side to the audience, and Roger sat on the floor in front of him, facing all those people. He looked up at Mark and smiled, and Mark sighed. He turned a bit and reached up, giving a few tentative swipes at the air as if he was painting something, and feeling like a complete asshole.

Roger spoke up, looking at Mark, his voice strong and clear. "Why not? ...You can't say ya won't, Tony boy, without sayin' why not?" Roger jumped up, facing him, and spread his arms. "Because it's me askin' – Riff. Womb to tomb!

Mark swallowed, gave another swipe at the air. "Sperm to worm! You sure this looks like skywritin'?"

Roger grinned at him. "It's brilliant."

Mark swiveled where he was sitting, so he could look straight at Roger and was facing the audience. His heart was pounding in his ears, and his hands were shaking, but he was doing it. His next words rang out more clearly, more ease in his voice. "Twenty-seven years the boss has had that drugstore. I wanna surprise him with a new sign."

Roger grinned and hopped up onto the table beside Mark and flung an arm around his shoulders. They hadn't rehearsed that. "Tony, this is important!"

Mark looked at him, then looked to the lighting booth at the back of the auditorium. _Shit. Shit!_

"Um … I …"

Mark looked at Roger, panicked, as if he could somehow say the words for him. He _knew_ that he'd forget the lines from this stupid scene, all weekend he'd prepared himself for this moment even as he re-read the script over and over again.

But now it was here, the lights were seeming to burn his eyes, Roger's arm was still around his shoulders and everybody was fucking _staring_ at him. Ms. Dalaine's words came back to haunt him.

_What else did you expect?_

Mark's shoulders slumped; he caught Roger's concerned look out of the corner of his eye. He turned away from Roger, faced what looked like a sea of faces and tried to speak. He cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry. I forgot the words."

Some part of him had expected laughter, but none came. He could see Maureen and Benny looking at him sympathetically, and everyone else seemed pretty serious, too. Not even a smirk to be found.

Ms. Dalaine cleared her throat. "That's fine, Mark. It happens to everybody sooner or later – the actor's nightmare." She smiled kindly as Roger and Mark slid off the table, Roger pulling away to slide the table to its original spot backstage. "The rest of the scene seemed good, though." Mark started to breathe a sigh of relief before she continued. "Still, I'd like to see you after school today, okay?"

Mark nodded miserably, and left the stage, not looking up as he settled into his seat. He felt Maureen's hand pat his knee and Roger's shoulder bump his gently a moment later as Roger sat back down beside him.

"Hey," Benny whispered, leaning over Maureen. "At least you didn't puke."

- - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - -

Mark was at his locker at the end of the day, gathering the books he needed, when they converged. When he slammed his locker shut and turned around, Roger, Benny and Maureen were all standing right in front of him.

"Hey," Roger said, smiling slightly. "Thought you might want some moral support."

Maureen nodded. "Benny and I thought that, too."

Mark looked at them all. "Guys, I'm fine, really."

Benny looked at him skeptically. "Yeah?"

Mark smiled. "Yeah. The worst part is over." He chuckled. "I hope."

Maureen grinned. "It was painful."

Roger looked at her. "Hey. Watch it."

Maureen looked up at him, an amused expression on her face. "What do you think you're doing?"

Roger grinned and stepped closer to Mark. "Don't tease him, or I might have a nasty episode." He looked down earnestly into Mark's face. "I haven't been taking my medications, you know."

Maureen stared at him a minute, then snorted and grinned. "That might work on some shivering freshman, Davis, but it won't work on me."

Roger grinned and bit his lip, and Mark started walking away. "You guys. I've gotta go meet up with Dalaine."

"We'll walk with you," Roger said, falling into step beside him. Maureen and Benny followed.

"So, Maureen," Roger said casually. "Mark tells me you've been spreading rumors about me."

"I haven't spread any rumors," Maureen said after a second, sounding flustered. "I just – I just told him what I heard someone else saying."

Roger looked at Mark and rolled his eyes. "Otherwise known as _spreading a rumor_."

Maureen sputtered a little and Mark laughed, enjoying seeing Maureen squirm a little. But she recovered quickly. 

"Gossiping and spreading a rumor are _entirely_ different," she said, quickening her steps to get in front of Mark and Roger, walking backwards as she spoke. "Spreading a rumor implies creation of that rumor. And I didn't create anything." She paused, fixing Roger with a hard look. "But those rumors had to have started somewhere."

Mark laughed. "Seriously, Maureen, give it up. Roger's got no dirt for you to excavate."

They arrived at the door, and Mark turned to his friends. "Thanks. Now get the fuck out of here."

Benny grinned and slung an arm around a protesting Maureen, dragging her away even as she insisted on going in with Mark. Roger grinned after them, then turned back to Mark. "You sure you're okay? You want me to wait, we can hang out after?"

Mark smiled. "We can hang out, but not because I'm freaking out or anything. Honest, I'm fine. I'm sure this is nothing."

Roger nodded. "Okay. Look, I'll wait for you in the parking lot, okay?"

Mark grinned. "Yeah. Great."

Roger walked off, and Mark turned back towards the door, hesitating before going in. What was the worst that could happen, anyway? She'd kick him out of class. He'd still get to see Roger. And Maureen and Benny. It's not like they'd suddenly ditch him or something. And it's not like he'd be expelled for forgetting his fucking lines. And he wasn't worth murdering.

Mark allowed himself a small grin and entered the backstage area of the auditorium, seeing Ms. Dalaine sitting at her desk, and feeling a little surprised to hear Madonna playing on her radio. Mark cleared his throat.

"Uh, Ms. Dalaine? You wanted to see me?"

She turned around, smiling, and reached over to turn off her radio. "Mark, yes." She gestured to the dilapidated red couch sitting parallel to her desk. "Please, sit."

Mark sat down, sinking into the couch and struggling to look dignified as he was engulfed by the pillows. "I'm really sorry about today."

Ms. Dalaine waved away his apology. "Honestly, Mark, it happens to everyone." She smiled, staring at him. "Don't worry about it."

"But – then why – "

The teacher scooted her chair a little closer, leaning over the side of it to face Mark more fully. "You don't like my class, do you Mark?"

He looked up sharply. "I – no! No, I just – "

She laughed, holding up a hand again. "Easy. I just meant, you don't like drama, do you?"

Mark relaxed. "No. I – I didn't even want to take this class. It was kind of sprung on me."

She smiled. "A lot of my best students start out saying the same thing."

Mark looked up at her, and she swiveled her chair back to face her desk. "Look, I know it's not easy stuff for someone who's not used to it. Our semester together is broken up into two units – this one is the introductory one, we get to know each other, explore a little, have fun."

Mark tried to keep a straight face. Fun.

"And the second unit – which starts next week – we break into groups and put on a show."

Mark's stomach clenched. Oh shit.

"Do … do we have to perform for the whole school?"

Ms. Dalaine threw him a wry little grin. "I think you should think about directing. A lot of people in this class are going to want to be onstage and not behind the scenes, so we'll probably be short people who actually want to be doing that. Besides," she said, turning to face him again, "I think you'd be good at it. And you get the same grade evaluation directing as you would acting." She smiled, a real, genuine smile. "It's all theatre."

Mark grinned. "Okay. That sounds really good."

She clapped. "Good! Now get out of here, I have very, very important work to do."

Still grinning and feeling a bit dazed, Mark hurried out of the classroom. Unbelievable. He wasn't being punished, Ms. Dalaine was less of a freak than he thought, and even better, he wouldn't have to get up and perform on a stage again.

Mark hurried through the mostly empty halls, bursting out the door that led to the parking lot. There weren't a lot of cars there, and the brown one with the boy sitting on the hood stood out easily. Mark rushed over, grinning, and Roger hopped off his car.

"So?"

"So, she wants me to direct! No more acting!"

Roger laughed and clapped Mark's shoulder. "Perfect!"

"I know!"

Roger grinned and walked to the side of the car. "Get in. You wanna come to my house?"

"Sure," Mark said, climbing into the car and pulling on his seat belt as Roger settled in next to him. "Sounds good."

Roger started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, suddenly reaching down between he and Mark and coming back up with a bottle of Coke. One hand on the wheel, he unscrewed the lid with his teeth and carelessly dropped the cap before taking a long drink.

He noticed Mark staring and nodded towards him, holding out the bottle. "Want some? It's warm, but …"

Mark nodded, taking the bottle. "Thanks."

"So," Roger said, looking over as Mark stared at the bottle a moment before taking a drink. "You're gonna be directing. I hope you know I expect you to give me, and not Maureen, the best part in whatever thing you put on." He grinned. "Get her back for telling people I'm some kind of whacked out serial killer." He nodded, mock serious as he watched the road. "I definitely want to be the lead."

Mark took another long swallow of the Coke, watching Roger out of the corner of his eye. The hand holding the bottle fell to his side, and he wiped at his mouth before handing the bottle back to Roger and turning to stare out his window.

"Don't worry," he said, not daring to look Roger's way. "I think you will be."


	4. Here Goes

**Here Goes**

- - -

- - -

_The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart_. -St. Jerome

-

"Hey, Mark! Heads up!"

"_Shit._ … Don't do it, Maureen! If you do, I swear to _God_ – "

A dull thud and a splash as the bright blue balloon exploded onto Mark's shoulder and into the side of his head.

"Ow! Fuck! Goddammnit, Maureen, I am gonna fucking _kill_ you – "

Mark strode towards his house, still yelling.

Maureen leaned out his bedroom window, grinning maniacally. "You can't come in, you're soaking! And you'll track water all through the house," she yelled down to him, unconsciously imitating Mark's mother.

Mark stopped in his tracks. Dammit, she was right. And he'd get in shit for sure.

Maureen waited, saw that he'd stopped, and grinned.

"I'll come down to you," she yelled, disappearing into his room.

Mark flopped onto his lawn, stretching out onto his back and hoping the sun would warm him. Okay, so it was spring. And, yes, it was warmer than it should be this time of year.

But, goddammit, not warm enough for water balloons. 

Mark heard the door opening behind him and soon Maureen plopped down beside him, laughing breathlessly. "You should have seen your face."

"I should break yours." Mark grumbled. "How long were you lying in wait for me?"

"Not long. Your mom let me in about twenty minutes ago. Any time would have been worth it, though," she said, grinning in reminiscence.

"I mean it. If you weren't a girl I'd punch your lights out," Mark said, patting the darkened and wet material of his shirt.

"Aw, come on." Maureen snuggled closer and rested her head against Mark's shoulder. "It was funny. Besides, I owed you."

"For what?" Mark sat up abruptly, outraged.

Maureen looked up at him, squinting, and smirked. "For not giving me the dirt on Roger. He drive you home?"

Mark sighed and fell heavily back onto the grass. "Yes. And for the last time, there is no dirt on Roger."

"And you're not Jewish," Maureen mocked. 

Mark looked up into the sky a few moments, watching clouds drift by and pondering what to say. He felt his stomach sicken a little bit, watching those clouds but seeing pinky-orange ones in their place.

"Well …" Mark said, hesitating.

Maureen rolled over eagerly to stare at him, propping her head up with her hand, elbow on the ground. "What?"

Mark looked at her. "He plays guitar. And sings." Mark glanced away again. "He writes his own songs."

Maureen exhaled slowly. "Mark, that is not good gossip. Seriously. Hobbies aren't gossip, unless you snort them."

Mark shook his head, smiling. "It's not just a hobby with him. He … he's really passionate about it." He was seeing Roger sitting on a dimly lit stage, deep in concentration and cradling a guitar.

Maureen started to snort, but the sound died in her throat.

"…Mark, are you …" She swallowed, looking away from him. "Are you, like, interested in him?"

"No!" Mark said loudly. "No … I mean, obviously I find him interesting, and I like him, he's a good friend – "

"Well, you spend all your time with him."

Mark made a disgusted noise. "What do you care? _You_ spend all _your_ time with Benny."

Maureen looked at him seriously. "Exactly."

Mark flushed a little; but he was smirking up at the sky. "Right. And you and Benny aren't dating, so …"

"Yeah, we really aren't," Maureen said, a hint of glumness in her voice.

"What?" Mark turned to look at her. "I thought – "

Maureen waved him off and laughed, sounding herself again. "It's nothing. He asked Jamie Reynolds to grad, that's all."

Mark grimaced. "Bastard. Sorry."

She shook her head, smiling. "It's not like I wasn't expecting it, Mark. We both always knew – no commitments, no complications."

Maureen was still smiling, but Mark could see her eyes and could see that she wasn't totally meaning that smile. He placed a hand over hers.

"But sometimes complications happen when you least expect it – even when you do everything you can to avoid them."

Maureen didn't answer, but she didn't pull her hand away. Mark looked at her sympathetically, his own heart twisting a little bit. Everything was complicated now. But there was nothing he could do about it, couldn't help the situation and couldn't help the way he felt.

Mark stared into the sky, looking straight at the sun for a moment. When it got to be too much, when it started to hurt and began to get unbearable, he snapped his eyes shut quickly, squeezing them, closing out the world. But behind his eyes he could still see residual sparkings of bright light and Roger's smiling face.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Wednesday found Mark sitting in the theatre twenty minutes before class was supposed to begin. The place was empty, and Mark figured it wasn't a bad place to spend the last half of lunch collecting his thoughts.

Okay. So. He liked Roger. Fine. He needed to take this apart and analyze it rationally. Look at it coolly enough and it might start to make sense, might get a little less ridiculous and a lot more controllable.

Fifteen minutes later Mark had made no headway at all. Rationale – when he'd seized on any at all – hadn't made any of this go away. And it didn't help that Roger had entered the slowly-filling theatre and plopped down next to him, slouching down and resting his knee against Mark's.

"Hey. How're you doing?"

Mark flushed, looking away. "I'm good. You?"

"Fine," Roger answered absently, staring intently at him. "Are you sure you're okay? You look kind of red."

_Fuckinggoddammitshitshitshit_. "I'm good. I – I just was walking outside at lunchtime, and I guess I'm still feeling a little hot."

"Okay." Roger smiled and leaned back in his chair. Mark tried to not look at his knee.

Soon all the usual seats were filled by the usual students, and Maureen and Benny were sitting beside Mark, Maureen a little quieter than usual. Mark shifted uncomfortably, dislodging Roger's knee. See, that is what happened when you let things get complicated. You made an ass of yourself – not that Maureen had made an ass of herself, but in the same situation he surely would – and then you had to nurse embarrassment and hurt while trying to act normal. It wasn't worth it.

Mark decided to forget it. All of it. Friendship was enough – friendship was _great_. That's all that these feelings were anyway: just the normal, everyday emotions you felt when you were good friends with somebody. Right.

Mark started when he felt an elbow jab him sharply in the side. "What?"

Roger smiled, looking amused. "Class is starting? You might want to _pretend_ to pay attention instead of daydreaming."

Mark half-smiled, and turned towards the stage. Everybody loved watching their friends smile, because they loved those people. Some smiles just … were bigger than others.

Ms. Dalaine was standing in the middle of the stage, talking. "And next week we'll start preparing for the end of year arts showcase. Since you guys are seniors, you get to direct. We'll break into three groups, and each one will create a scene to work on and perform. Each group will have actors and a director." She paused, smiling out over the class. "Now, how many of you want to act?"

Everyone in the room shot up a hand except Mark and one other girl. Ms. Dalaine looked down and caught Mark's eye, the side of her mouth quirking up in a little grin. She put her attention back on the class and sighed good-naturedly.

"Okay, I'll just join the third group as a director. Now, Mark and Allie, I want you guys to think about what actors you want to cast. There's 20 people in this class, so … you can each choose six actors. Hand a list into me by Friday and I'll make sure there are no overlaps."

She turned around and stepped towards her chair, checking out the open notebook that lay there. "Right. I wanted to start with something fun today. Partner up, everybody, and get your butts onstage."

Mark turned to Roger and grinned. They got up as one and headed to the stage. Once everyone was milling around in twos, Ms. Dalaine raised her voice again.

"Okay, sit down on the floor, facing each other. We're going to do the Mirror."

A murmur of recognition went through the assembled group, and Mark looked at Roger, raising his eyebrows as he sat. Roger shrugged, settling in across from Mark and crossing his legs.

"What I want you to do," Ms. Dalaine said, walking through all the pairs sitting on the floor, "Is pretend the person across from you is your mirror image. Everything they do, you do. The space between you is a sheet of mirror. You don't see your partner on the other side of it – just _your_ mirror image." She grinned. "Remember to move slowly so you can follow each other." She threw up her hands. "Go on, start! And see where this takes you."

Mark and Roger looked at each other, not letting their eyes meet. Mark could feel himself starting to blush, unsure of how to play this stupid game and of just what, exactly, he was supposed to be doing. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, guys, it's not that humiliating. Besides, you have many comrades to share in your misery."

Ms. Dalaine stood, grinning, and continued on to the next pair. Roger looked silently at Mark for a minute, then one corner of his mouth lifted in a small smile. Slowly, he lifted one hand in a slow sweeping wave.

Mark grinned, then caught himself and arranged his face into a half-smile. He lifted his hand, trying to follow Roger's movements. They locked eyes; there wasn't really any other way to do this than to stare.

Intensely. 

Mark was sure the same thing was happening to everyone else. 

He watched Roger sweep his hand to his side and his face meld into a serious expression. Mark followed, then raised his eyebrows and widened his eyes, almost laughing when he saw Roger's expression.

Then Roger leaned forward, putting his hands in his lap. Noses almost touching, Mark raised one eyebrow and then laughed when Roger struggled to copy him. Roger broke for a second, too, grinning before his face got serious again, following Mark as he leaned back to a comfortable sitting position.

Then Roger tentatively reached out a hand, palm outstretched and facing Mark, bringing it so close that Mark had to press his hand right against Roger's. Then Roger raised his other hand, putting it in the same position so they were sitting there, close, hands against each other. 

Mark felt his heart pounding in his chest, felt his pulse reverberating through his head. Their hands seemed to be moving of their own accord now, stretching out in an arc that landed beside their knees before lifting up again, coming close together in front of their chests.

Both boys froze in that position, hands together and eyes locked on each other. Forget the fucking game. Mark found that he really just could not move. He saw Roger's chest lift sharply, had an instant to wonder if maybe he was having as much trouble breathing as Mark was, and if so, if it was for the same reason –

Then a loud clap echoed through the room and they quickly pulled away from each other, looking towards the safe territory their teacher presented.

"Okay, guys, good job! That looked great. Now get up, we don't have a lot more time for just the fun stuff, so let's cram today full of improv games! Get in a circle!"

Mark stood up, feeling shaky on his feet, and walked over to where the circle was gathering.

But before he could drop down beside Maureen, he felt a hand lightly land on his shoulder and then skim down his arm. The touch was so light he could barely feel it, and it was gone in an instant. Still, Mark couldn't hold back a little shiver.

Roger leaned down from just behind him and to the side, voice low. "Mark? You're coming to my house after school, right?"

Mark kept his eyes on Roger as he lowered himself next to Maureen. Once seated, he nodded. "Yeah."

Roger broke the eye contact, looked to the door at the back of the auditorium as he sat down, a little farther from Mark than he usually would.

"Good."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Mark decided he was going to fail his last year of high school.

But he'd probably get a good grade in drama.

Math and history went by in a vaguely unpleasant and excitable blur. Not that anything had meant … anything. At all.

Right?

All too soon, Mark found himself at Roger's car, leaning against the hood and nervously playing with the bit of material hanging from his backpack strap. He took a deep breath and exhaled, looking up to the sky and trying to relax. He'd been to Roger's house before. God, he had to calm the fuck down.

When he looked down he saw Roger jogging towards him, grinning. He couldn't help but grin back.

"Hey," Roger said, unlocking Mark's door and then heading to his own. 

"Hey," Mark said, sliding himself into the car. Somehow, he couldn't think of anything else to say and fell into silence, soon noticing that Roger, too, hadn't spoken as he'd begun to drive. They rode that way, staring forward, silent, until they reached Roger's.

Roger took the key out of the ignition and sighed, letting his head fall forward a bit before turning to face Mark. "Are you – we don't have to hang out here, you know. If you don't want to …."

Mark shook his head, glancing quickly at Roger. "No, I'm good. But, I mean, if you don't want to, if you wanna go somewhere else …."

"No." Roger said, then quickly got out of the car. Mark followed him out and into his house, then through the kitchen. Roger turned his upper body to look at Mark.

"Um, I'm not really hungry, but if you want some ice cream or something …"

Mark shook his head silently, wondering where Roger was leading him. They'd hung out in the kitchen before, and the den in the basement, but Roger had already bypassed both places …

Roger suddenly stopped, and Mark barreled into him from behind.

"Fuck," Mark said quietly, hurrying to steady himself and step back. "Sorry."

Roger looked at him. "We could hang out in my room."

"Okay," Mark nodded and swallowed, following Roger up the short winding staircase.

"It's a little messy," Roger said, an enviable ease in his voice as he opened the door. "But not too bad, or I wouldn't even invite you in."

Roger hesitated a moment, then walked in and stepped over to a bookcase crammed with books and cassette tapes, stopping to stand beside a guitar case leaning against the shelves. He grinned, watching Mark slowly walk in and look around.

Mark chuckled, thinking of the dirty plate and glass on his floor next to a pile of dirty clothes and the _Close Encounters of the Third Kind_ poster over his bed and feeling embarrassed. "You are never getting to see my room."

Roger looked up. "Why?"

Mark shrugged. "Yours is definitely neater. And I don't have a bookcase – just a desk with all my shit piled on it."

Roger shrugged one shoulder, turning away a bit. "Well, it's a little neater than usual. Don't feel bad or anything."

Mark smiled, rubbing one hand over his upper arm. Roger suddenly walked towards him, the movement causing him to jump.

"Here," Roger said. "Give me your backpack, you can just leave it beside the guitar."

Mark let the backpack slip off his shoulder and handed it to Roger, watching him and feeling idiotic. He didn't even remember bringing it in. He should have left it in Roger's car. But once Roger had taken it, he kind of missed holding onto to that strap.

Roger leaned over, placing the backpack on the floor, and then slowly straightened up. Mark watched, heart pounding suddenly, as Roger's shoulders lifted and dropped before he turned around.

"So," Mark said, then grimaced inwardly. So what? It wasn't like he had anything to actually _say_. God, why was this so weird and awkward? He'd been in Maureen's room a million times before – they'd even laid together on her bed.

Mark just snapped his mouth shut, determined to not say anything else stupid. So he'd just have to not say anything, for as long as he could stand it.

The silence stretched throughout the room, and Mark looked down at his feet, already casting about for _something_ to say - _anything!_

He sensed rather than saw Roger walking toward him, then saw Roger's boots in front of his shoes. He looked up to find Roger _right there_, so close his breath caught in his throat.

Roger didn't say anything – just looked at him, eyes locked on his, face unnaturally serious. Mark swallowed, feeling – he didn't know. Like those eyes were stripping away at him. Not his clothes or anything ridiculous like that, but – but stripping away everything that wasn't him. Like he knew every thought. It was terrifying.

Roger suddenly smiled, and Mark cocked his head a little, questioningly, as Roger lifted an arm, his palm exposed and facing Mark.

Mark looked down at that hand, confused, then looked up at the other boy, raising his eyebrows, but put his hand up, placing it against Roger's.

He nearly leaped back when Roger abruptly lunged forward, wrapping his free arm around Mark's waist and pulling him close, their hands trapped between their chests. Mark breathed in sharply, surprised, then looked up to see Roger's face leaning down towards him, a soft little smile on his face.

Roger caught his eye and stopped, just a centimeter from Mark's face, raising his eyebrows a little. Then the smile left his face as he closed the rest of the distance between them and pressed his lips to Mark's.

_Oh my god._

Mark froze, his chest tight. Breathing was impossible. But after a second, after realizing what Roger was doing – what Roger was _doing_ – he let his eyes close and took his hand from where it was wedged between them and slowly slid his arms around Roger, tentatively returning the kiss. He could feel Roger smile against his lips.

Mark pressed himself a little closer to Roger – pressed Roger's lips a little harder with his own. Roger slipped his arm away from Mark's waist and brought both hands up to rest against the sides of Mark's face, holding him, and Mark felt a huge rush of emotion hit him. He couldn't define it – it was nothing like he'd ever felt before, and wholly and completely overwhelming.

Roger's grip on his face tightened; he pulled his lips away for just a second before returning to lightly suck Mark's bottom lip between his lips; running his tongue along Mark's mouth.

Mark felt something sharp run through his gut, opening his mouth to Roger just as the other boy started pulling him towards his bed. They almost fell over each other as they walked clumsily, their faces still connected in their kiss even as Roger fell onto his bed, pulling Mark with him, on top of him.

Mark was barely aware of how they'd even gotten there, didn't know how either of them was lying; he just knew that their bodies were pressed together, that Roger was running one hand through Mark's hair and was caressing Mark's cheek with the other.

They kissed more passionately now, Mark feeling an almost unbearable heat building through his body as they continually quickly pressed their lips, their tongues against each other, pulling away the smallest of distances and then crashing back together.

Roger made a small noise, a little moan, and Mark felt his own rising from his chest, surprised at how quickly this had happened and at how easily he had lost control of his entire body. His hands ran along Roger's shoulders, to his neck, feeling as if he was breathing Roger's breath, had completely lost his own –

"Roger? Sweetheart, are you home?"

Still pressed together, Roger murmured against Mark's lips, "_Fuck_. She was supposed to be working late."

"Honey, get down here, help me make dinner," the voice called out cheerily. "I know you're home, your keys are in the bowl."

"Fuck fuck fuck," Roger muttered as Mark awkwardly slid a bit and rolled off Roger right onto the floor. He sat there for a moment, dazed, before standing and striding over to Roger's bookcase, grabbing his backpack.

"Mark, no," he heard, and turned to see Roger sitting on the side of his bed, his shirt riding up a little bit over his stomach and his face looking flushed. "Stay. You can stay for dinner, I know my mom won't mind – "

"No," Mark said quickly. "I – should really go."

Roger stood, gesturing towards his door. "It's really no problem to stay – "

Mark shook his head. "No. No, I've … I've gotta go."

Roger's face tightened. "Okay. At least let me walk you out."

Mark looked at him, silently nodded. Roger brushed past him and opened his bedroom door, waiting for Mark to go past before letting it fall closed again. He followed him silently down the stairs, brushing past him again when they reached the living room.

"Mom, this is Mark. He's just leaving."

Roger sat carefully in one of the kitchen table chairs, eyes on Mark.

"Oh, hello, Mark," Mrs. Davis smiled at him, her face looking kind, but Mark simply nodded and looked at the floor, walking past her. When he reached the back door, he turned and attempted a smile.

"It – it was nice meeting you, Mrs. Davis. I – I'm sorry I'm in such a rush."

She waved a hand at him, still smiling and leaning back against the kitchen sink. "That's fine, hon. I'm sure I'll be seeing more of you."

Mark smiled tightly and nodded, disappearing out the door. As soon as he was out of the house, he stopped and took a deep breath. Good thing he had grabbed his backpack earlier – he wouldn't be getting a ride home and he never would have thought to grab it out of Roger's car. Not when he was like this.

He walked through the backyard, almost to the opening that led to the front yard, when he heard a door clanging open behind him.

"Mark! Wait!"

Mark stopped, and turned slightly. Roger walked towards him, coming close but catching himself, hanging back a moment. Then he caught Mark's gaze, locked eyes, and stepped forward, leaning his head in close.

"Mark." He spoke softly, reaching a hand up to brush across the hair just above Mark's ear. Mark's chest hitched, breathing hard. "Don't – don't freak out on me, okay?"

Mark looked up at him, Roger's eyes looking troubled, the light of the setting sun glinting against them.

"Yeah – I mean, no. I mean – "

Roger laughed a little. "Okay." He leaned forward, dipping his head closer to Mark's –

"I've gotta go," Mark said, feeling stupid, barely hearing his own words as he reared back a little and turned, half-jogging away from Roger. He didn't look back.


	5. Show, Don't Tell

**Show, Don't Tell**

- - -

- - -

Mark stood on Maureen's doorstep, his legs feeling wobbly. It had been a deceptively long walk – the distance went by so quickly when Roger was driving him.

Mark breathed deeply, trying to calm his beating heart. It was hurting – actually _hurting_ – his chest felt like it was going to crack open. How could he have run away like that? How could he have turned away when Roger was smiling like that, about to kiss him –

Mark shook his head. He had been wrong. It had been some kind of colossal mistake. Roger couldn't have possibly kissed him. He couldn't possibly – Mark swallowed – want him. In that way. They were friends.

That's all.

And that feeling Mark had felt rising in him, overtaking him –

It just didn't exist, that's all. He hadn't lost control over his own body, and his own mind, his life did _not_ just drastically change, and everything was normal and sane and easy. Mark hitched up his backpack, sighing unconsciously, and rang the Johnson's doorbell.

A moment later the door opened, Mr. Johnson peering at him coolly. Mark's stomach dropped – he'd thought Maureen would answer the door. Her parents were okay, but they weren't exactly friendly.

Mr. Johnson stared at him silently for a moment. Mark cleared his throat. "Is, um, Maureen home?" he asked tentatively.

Mr. Johnson gave Mark a half-hearted smile and then turned, walking deeper into the house. Mark followed, waiting in the front hall.

"Maureen!" Mr. Johnson hollered in the direction of the stairs leading to the second floor. "You have company!"

Mark saw Maureen's father walk into the living room and fall onto the couch, sighing tiredly as Maureen called down, "Daddy! You know I can't see anyone right now!"

Mark saw the man lightly shake his head. A moment later Maureen's voice floated down again.

"Well, who is it?"

"Mark! Now get down here!"

"…Oh."

Mark could hear the disappointment in her voice and nearly turned around. But the thought of home and homework and the inevitable college discussion with his parents at the dinner table kept him where he was.

Soon Maureen emerged from the top of the stairs. "Mark, what are you doing here?"

Mark stared. "…What the hell is on your face?"

Her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail and gray goop spread over her face, Maureen blew out an exasperated breath. "It's not like I was expecting company. It's an oatmeal mask."

Mark decided to ignore it. "Can I stay the night?"

Maureen walked down a few steps. "…Are you okay?"

_I kissed Roger. I fucked up everything._

Mark nodded. "Yeah … I just, I really …" Mark sighed. "I can't talk to you when your face is covered in breakfast food. Can I please stay?"

Maureen nodded. "Yeah sure. And I'll go wash this off – but you're getting one of these just for that smartass remark," she called over her shoulder, turning into the bathroom. "Call your mom, she's probably freaking."

Mark simply nodded, feeling miserable as he walked past Mr. Johnson into the kitchen and called his mother, absently fielding her questions and forgetting everything he said the moment he hung up the phone. He turned back to the living room, pausing before heading up the stairs.

"Uh, thanks for letting me spend the night, Mr. Johnson. I'm really sorry if – "

Mr. Johnson shook his head, eyes on the television. "You're always welcome here Mark. Just no funny stuff. You know I'll find out – Maureen could never keep quiet about it."

Mark smiled. "Yeah. Thanks."

He hurried upstairs and into Maureen's room, where she was reaching into her closet and pulling out a sleeping bag.

"So what's up?" she asked, the bag next to her bed and facing Mark. "Something's wrong, I'm not stupid."

"I know that," Mark said, sounding strained. "I just – I wanted to escape for a while, you know?"

Maureen looked at him, then smiled. "Yeah, I know." She flopped onto her bed. "So, look, have you chosen your group yet for drama?"

"Yeah," Mark said, gratefully dropping onto the sleeping bag. Maureen tossed him a pillow.

"We'll order pizza later – I think that's what we were going to do, anyway," Maureen said, glancing at Mark out of the corner of her eye. "Is Benny in it?"

"In what?" Mark asked, genuinely confused. He wasn't up to – well, anything right now. He leaned his head back, trying to stretch the tension out of his neck. Had Roger's hands really been there just a little while ago?

"Your group," Maureen said, turning to face him.

Mark stared. "Of course he – I didn't think you cared, I – "

Maureen flipped over onto her back. "I don't care. He just mentioned something about not wanting to act."

He would have called her on it; but didn't he just a minute ago deny that anything was wrong?

"Well," Mark said slowly, thinking. "I don't think I will get him to act. He can work on the script with me – I mean, if he doesn't want to act."

"That's good," Maureen said quietly.

They were silent for a few minutes. "Maureen?"

"Yeah?"

Mark held his breath a second. "What would you do … if I was interested in Roger?"

Maureen laughed and pumped her hands in the air. "I knew it! I _knew_ it!"

"Maureen …" Mark tiredly rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"What?" she said, grinning. "I think it would be great. I'm just thrilled to finally get some dirt out of you." She reached down a foot and hit him in the shoulder with it. "But I swear I won't spread it around, honest."

Mark gave her a small smile. "I know. I trust you. I probably shouldn't, but …"

Maureen grinned and tossed a stuffed rabbit at his head. He ducked and grinned. He wasn't even thinking about Roger, really.

Fuck. Now he was. 

"So, you wouldn't freak out or anything …?"

"Nope. Other people might, though."

Mark looked down at his hands in his lap. "I know."

"But fuck 'em. You like him, you go for it." She smiled, looking thoughtful. "It'd probably be worth it."

"People would talk."

"People _always_ talk, no matter what," Maureen said. "They're always calling me slut and whore 'cause of Benny." She snorted. "I go out with Paul Harris _once_ and I'm a slut. But you notice no one calls Benny anything." Maureen paused. "Nothing happened with Paul Harris anyway, and nothing even really happened with Benny."

Mark hid a smile. Maureen sounded unusually depressed about that.

"Jamie Reynolds doesn't mean a thing to Benny. You'll probably get back together."

Maureen shook her head. "I don't think so." She rolled onto her stomach, her head hanging off the side of her bed over Mark. "I think you're gonna be really good at this drama thing."

Mark snorted, going along with the change in subject. "Yeah. I've proved myself so proficient at it in the past."

"You have," Maureen insisted. She suddenly grinned. "Remember when I first moved into the neighborhood?"

Mark looked at her. "I know you left me a note asking if I wanted to be friends."

Maureen laughed. "I left one of those at every house."

"Oh."

She giggled. "Don't get all offended. You're the only one I actually stuck with."

Mark smiled. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Maureen looked off to the side. "It was the end of August, and I was really scared about starting at a new school. And I walked by your place, and you were in your yard and asked if I wanted to play."

Maureen laughed. "And I couldn't believe it, 'cause that was such a baby thing to say. And I was really obsessed with being 'cool' then. But I thought I'd get a good laugh out of it."

Mark made a face. "Wow. Thanks."

She reached down and hit his shoulder. "I can't believe you don't remember this! So I walked over, and you leaned forward and whispered to me, 'They've landed'. And I was just like, what the fuck?"

Maureen giggled again. "And then you told me that the grass was really an alien race intent on taking over the world, and that they were growing at an alarming rate, and then you pointed to the tree in your yard. You said, 'See? They're getting huge. They could crush us in a minute. We've got to get away from them.'"

Maureen looked at him, grinning. "For, like, an hour, we ran around your yard, trying to not touch the grass, you coming up with a new twist to the story every minute. And then you – " She laughed. "You ran around to the back and hopped on the tool shed, and started trying to climb onto the roof, but your foot hit the kitchen window, and your Mom came out yelling."

Mark grinned suddenly. "She grabbed my arm and yanked me inside and yelled, sounding really pissed, that she was happy to meet you."

Maureen squealed. "Yes! You remember!"

Mark nodded, still grinning. "Now I do, yeah."

"And I just remember thinking, wow. This guy just doesn't _care_, and I just had the most fun I've had all summer. I came back the next day."

"And the first day of school we walked in together, and you held my hand," Mark said, smiling softly at the memory.

"Yeah."

In the heavy silence that descended, Maureen looked over at him shrewdly. "You're great, Mark. Don't forget that."

"Thanks," Mark said, not meeting her eyes and swallowing.

After a moment Maureen jumped up. "Let's go order pizza. And watch a movie if dad lets us use the VCR."

Mark stood. "Okay."

He followed Maureen out of her room and onto the stairs.

"How about 'Grease'?"

"_No!_"

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mark dreaded going back to school, but he hadn't needed to worry. Roger didn't show up for drama class on Thursday or Friday. And every time Mark thought he saw him in the halls, he disappeared by the time Mark got through the crowds separating them.

Before handing in his cast list to Ms. Dalaine, Mark wondered if he should change it. But at the last minute he decided to leave it as it was. It looked like Roger wasn't going to be showing up, anyway.

Mark swung by the parking lot on his way out of school, but he couldn't see Roger's car. Cursing himself, he walked home.

That weekend, Mark had a lot of time to think. Maureen and her parents were going to visit Maureen's grandparents. And he didn't feel like talking to Benny – it was a little weird, knowing that Maureen felt weird around him. Not that she'd admit it.

_Like you're any better, asshole._

The only times he really left his room was for meals or to go to the kitchen and stare at the phone. He could call him and apologize. But a phone call seemed so cold and impersonal – and besides, he could see Roger hanging up on him in his mind.

Mark sighed and went back to his room, softly closing the door behind him. 

It would have never worked anyway. There were so many reasons, so many _good_ reasons to stop this in its tracks, before it got any more painful –

Mark flopped onto his bed, realizing something that was scarier than anything else that had happened recently.

_I don't care. I want him._

Not just the friendship. Mark missed that, of course, but he also felt a physical longing to be back with Roger, just to stand close to him …

Mark covered his face. That wasn't friendship.

And as hard as he'd tried, none of this was going away.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

On Monday when Mark walked into drama class, his heart skipped a beat when he saw that Roger was already there, sitting a few rows behind everyone else. Mark started to hurry his footsteps, but stopped, hesitating. Roger looked behind him and they locked eyes for an instant. Then Roger's face hardened and he turned back around.

Mark took a deep breath and continued slowly. He inched through the empty row and sat down beside Roger.

"Hey."

Roger stared straight ahead, silent. Mark sighed.

"Listen – "

Roger turned suddenly. "To what? I already know, Mark – I've gotten your message loud and clear." He turned back to stare at the stage, and then shook his head, chuckling bitterly under his breath.

"I don't need this shit," he said, grabbing his backpack and standing up. 

Mark watched him sweep away. "Roger, wait – "

But the bell rang, Ms. Dalaine was onstage, and Roger was out the door. 

- - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - -

"Okay, so …" Mark spoke slowly, his mind speeding past him and what he wanted to be concentrating on. He tried to grasp onto his thoughts. "Benny, I was thinking we could co-write."

Benny nodded. "Cool."

"And you guys will act – " Mark swallowed. "Roger, too, if he shows up."

Maureen and the three other girls he had chosen nodded. 

"So, for you, until Benny and I get this written, you can pretty much hang out – but today I thought we'd throw around some ideas."

Maureen stayed uncharacteristically quiet through the period, but everyone else spoke freely and at the end of class they had a number of ideas for a short piece.

After the bell rang and everyone headed for the door, Mark jogged after Benny. 

"Hey, Benny, come over tonight and we'll work, okay?"

Benny nodded. "The sooner we have this thing written, the sooner the chicks can start learning the lines."

Mark looked at him. "So … what's with you and Maureen?"

Benny stopped and looked at Mark. "Huh? Nothing. We hang out like we always did."

Benny resumed walking, and Mark followed, thinking.

"So come over around 6:30, that sound good?"

Benny nodded.

Mark held up the paper on which he'd scribbled notes as everyone talked. "This is all good, but I have a couple ideas of my own that … that I really want to include, okay?"

Benny nodded again. "I really don't care, man. It's all just a grade to me."

- - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - -

Mark counted every day without ever acknowledging to himself that he was. Roger had skipped drama for three weeks in a row now. Mark had gotten one of the other girls to temporarily play his part as well as her own. Benny would play the part in a pinch, but Mark hadn't told him to start learning the lines. Not yet.

He'd also written a scene for their show that he hadn't shown anyone except Benny, saying the script wasn't completely done. He wanted to wait … just a couple more days. Because if Roger didn't show up, it didn't matter anyway.

Mark had tried talking to Roger in the halls, but Roger had kept up the ignoring act. He'd even climbed to the school's roof one Saturday, thinking that it would be calming the watch the sunset. But soon he shook his head in disgust at himself and climbed back down before the sun even began to drop. He knew he wasn't there for the fucking sunset.

The day Roger came back to class, Mark had seen him in the hallway before school started. Roger had pointedly swept past, not looking at him, and Mark had had to bite back an urge to just grab Roger and start yelling, demanding he listen. The urge to blurt out an apology, even as he felt furious with Roger for hiding from him like this.

Not like he could really blame him.

The fury left as quickly as it had emerged, though, and Mark turned to watch Roger walk away, his heart aching in his chest. He knew it was physically impossible, hearts didn't hurt, not really –

But his just – did.

And as he watched that familiar body striding through the halls away from him, knowing how Roger's body felt and how he smiled and made him laugh and feel easy and feel –

_I love him._

Right in the middle of school, Mark slumped against a bank of lockers and sank to the floor, tiredly dropping his face into his hands as a mass of students passed by him. It was all so fucked up he couldn't even see straight anymore.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Mark's breath hitched when Roger showed up to class fifteen minutes late. He and his group were sitting in the back of the theatre, doing another read-through and arguing over bits of dialogue and how they wanted to present it – what music, if any at all, to use – and Mark looked up, and there he was, talking seriously to Ms. Dalaine on the stage. Mark saw her nod and point to the back of the theatre and quickly ducked his head, his heart racing.

"Hey," Roger said, coming and sitting beside Benny. "I'm sorry I've missed so much – I just – shit went down."

The group nodded, and Mark turned to Rachel. "Are you ready to relinquish the boy's part?"

Rachel grinned. "Most definitely. It was fine and everything, but I prefer being a girl, thanks."

The group laughed, and Mark stood. "Listen, I have that last scene done – just let me go get it, and we'll go over it quick."

He walked slowly to the front of the stage, where his backpack was sitting, and brought out copies of the scene he'd finished writing over a week ago. Benny didn't like it, and he didn't expect the girls to, either, but Mark pulled the director card. This was the scene they were ending with.

When Mark returned, he handed scripts to everyone, including Roger, who quickly looked at him before training his eyes on the paper between them.

Mark sat on the other side of Benny, the rest of the group facing him. "Okay. This is our final scene, and it's between Maureen and Roger, so they can work on it while we work on the rest of the scene. I'll read Maureen's part," he said, watching as everyone scanned their papers.

Rachel looked up. "It just ends like this?"

Mark nodded firmly.

"But it just – leaves it. That bites."

Mark looked at his shoes. "Sometimes there's a beauty in imperfection – you can't always make everything right."

Trying to control the flush he felt building in his cheeks, Mark kept his face down until Maureen's suddenly shrill voice broke the silence.

"I have to kiss him?"

"Yes."

Maureen made a face. "Oh, come on."

Mark sneered at her. "Just pretend you're in a closet."

Maureen looked shocked for a minute before bursting into laughter. "Okay!"

Mark grinned at her, carefully keeping his eyes only on his friend. "You and Roger go over to those seats and do a read-through, okay?"

Maureen nodded and stood, holding out a hand to Roger. Mark didn't watch them walk away, but turned to his script.

"Okay," he said, "Let's start at the start."

They read for a while, still checking their scripts occasionally. Mark was a little nervous about that, but figured by the time their turn came to use the stage to block and rehearse it'd be okay.

Mark lost himself in the voices around him, speaking the words Benny and he had written. He was startled out of his concentration by Maureen suddenly calling his name.

"Mark?"

He turned towards her, trying hard to not look at Roger.

"Yeah?"

"I don't get this," she said, leaning over the back of her seat.

Mark frowned. "What don't you get?"

Maureen sighed. "Okay, so, she kisses this guy, they're all happy, and then she up and _leaves_?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Roger look sharply towards him. He steadily trained his eyes on Maureen, feeling heat flushing through his body.

"That's what happens."

"But why?"

"Well, see," he said, trying to not see Roger out of the corner of his eyes, "Your character – she's scared. And when he kisses her – " Mark couldn't help it; he darted a quick look Roger's way – "It's like she's wanted this so badly without even realizing – and it's like she got shoved into this whole new world all at once and … and lost her footing. Which is terrifying for her. She needed to get away to – to get her bearings again."

Maureen stared at him. "That's stupid. She should just kiss him back."

Mark shook his head slightly. "It's staying the same," he said firmly. "Everybody – get back to rehearsing."

Sighing, he turned back to Benny and Maureen turned back to Roger. But he couldn't help noticing the demanding tone of Maureen's voice ringing out behind him.

"What the hell are you smiling about?"

- - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - -

Mark didn't know what he'd been expecting. Roger to walk over and ask him if he wanted a ride? Roger to just come over and start talking to him? Roger to – to – do anything at all?

Mark kept his head down as he walked through the mostly empty halls. All he knew was how disappointed he felt. He'd thought Roger would at least look at him, smile at him – anything. But there had been nothing.

Mark had even stayed in class longer than he should, ending up late for math class. But Roger must have been out the door the second the bell rang.

Mark sighed. He didn't want to go home, he didn't want to hang out with his friends, he didn't want …

Mark chuckled mirthlessly. He only knew what he wanted. And it looked like it was too late to get it.

He was almost home, hot and sweaty from the heat and exercise, when he heard a voice calling his name. Mark turned slowly, hardly daring to even hope.

"Hey," Roger said, leaning out his window as he slowly drove beside him. "Do you want to talk, or something?"

Mark smiled nervously. "Yeah. That would be good."

Roger brought the car to a halt and waited for Mark to walk over and get in. He turned to him.

"Where do you want to go?"

_The roof._

"I don't know – anywhere's fine."

Roger nodded, pulling away from the curb. "Okay. We can go to my place."

As much as Mark had wanted this opportunity and had imagined many times how it would play out, what he wanted to say, he found himself staying stupidly silent, cursing himself. But suddenly everything he'd wanted to say seemed too revealing. He needed to know what Roger was thinking before he gave anything too important away – before he made himself vulnerable.

They soon pulled in front of Roger's house. He took the key from the ignition and turned to Mark.

"Was that directed at me? Today?"

Mark looked at him and nodded seriously. "I – I'm sorry."

Roger gave him a small smile, then turned and climbed out of the car. Mark hurried to follow, staying behind Roger as they walked into the house and Roger sat down at the kitchen table. Mark sat across from him.

"Why didn't you just say that to me?"

Mark looked at the tablecloth. "I tried to, but you left – and I thought, I don't know – you seemed really mad," he finished lamely.

"I was," Roger said roughly, eyes flashing. "You just ran out like I'd fucking _assaulted_ you or something."

Mark frowned. "That wasn't it."

"Then what was it?"

He shrugged. "I just – I was scared."

"Of me?"

Mark lifted his head and stared into Roger's eyes. "Yeah, that was part of it. And I – I guess I was afraid of things changing."

Roger watched him intently. "And now?"

Mark shook his head. "Now I know that things had already changed."

They sat there a few minutes, quiet.

"Mark?"

Mark returned Roger's gaze only to have the other boy turn away. 

"You're the only person at school that I've told about my dad."

Mark swallowed, unsure of how to react to that. He waited.

Roger cleared his throat, looking up at the ceiling for a minute. "So do you think we can – I don't know, just go back to how it was before?"

Mark grinned. "If you think we can, yeah. I mean, that's what I'd want …"

Roger smiled. "Okay. You want some ice cream, then?"

Mark nodded, and Roger hopped up, going to the cupboard and pulling out two bowls. Mark watched him stretching up, his shirt riding up a little at the back, and quietly stood.

He strode over to Roger, who turned around just as Mark reached him.

"Wh – oh. Hey, what – "

Mark pushed Roger away from the cupboards and against the wall. He glanced up quickly to meet Roger's eyes and see them shine a little before leaning into him and pressing his mouth to Roger's.

Mark felt Roger's arms slowly circle his waist and pressed his body closer to the other boy's, trapping him and kissing him harder. He darted out his tongue and brushed it over Roger's top lip before kissing him quickly once more and then pulling slightly back.

"I wasn't assaulting you, was I?"

"If you were, I liked it," Roger grinned, sounding a little breathless.

"Good," Mark said, grinning at Roger before leaning forward again to kiss him gently, just savouring the feel of Roger against him for a moment. This time Roger pulled away slightly.

"When I said I wanted to go back to how we were, I wasn't sure if you knew I meant this," he said, smiling a little.

Mark looked at him seriously. "I didn't," he answered. "But I knew that this was what I wanted."

Roger's face broke into a quick grin that quickly faded.

"Good," he said, then leaned his head down onto Mark's shoulder, wrapping his arms around him tightly.

After a moment of looking at the brown head next to his and smiling, Mark returned the fierce embrace. He swallowed, feeling Roger's heart beat against his. All the time he had spent agonizing – and he could admit now that that was exactly what he'd been doing those weeks Roger wouldn't even look at him – now, it seemed worth it.

And he would never be so stupid as to leave Roger again.

He felt Roger let out a long breath and pressed his cheek against the softness of Roger's neck. "I love you."

Mark could feel his stomach twist as Roger stayed silent. His breathing quickened, suddenly frightened that he'd ruined it, that Roger didn't feel the same and wouldn't feel comfortable around him anymore and then he'd be gone again, and now that Mark had said it, now that he had felt so much, he wasn't sure he could ever get over it –

Roger lifted his head and reared back a little, looking in Mark's eyes. He suddenly lunged forward, his lips smashing against Mark's as he lifted his arms and grabbed Mark's face, kissing him passionately. Mark could feel Roger's tongue sliding against his mouth and responded immediately, pushing into Roger's mouth and moaning.

It was still surprising at how easily the control Mark tried so hard to foster slipped away when he was with Roger like this. His heart was pounding against his chest and currents of pleasure were running through his body – but now those feelings that threatened to take him over were welcomed. He suddenly wanted to be overwhelmed and let everything about this moment wash him completely away.

Roger pulled away slightly and dropped a lazy kiss against Mark's neck, then rested his forehead against Mark's, lightly rubbing a hand on the back of his neck.

"I love you, too."

Mark smiled, speaking softly as he leaned into Roger. "I know."


	6. No Matter What

**No Matter What**

- - -

- - -

"Five minutes!"

Maureen squealed and grabbed Mark's arm. "We're on we're on we're on!"

Mark laughed and extricated his arm from her grip. "Breathe, or you'll collapse before you even get onstage."

Maureen laughed, turning over backwards and sticking her tongue out at the boys before dancing away. "I will not! I'm going to rule the world!"

Benny looked after her, smiling. "And this morning in English she had to run to the bathroom to puke."

Mark whirled. "You're fucking kidding me."

Benny grinned. "Not at all, my friend. She came back green – she blew chunks for sure."

Mark laughed. "I will never let her forget it."

Roger came up behind Mark, face painted in stage makeup. He lightly bumped Mark's shoulder. 

"Ready for your debut?"

Mark grinned. "Not my debut, thank god. I have the incredible pleasure of getting to _not_ be onstage."

"You ready, Roger?"

"Yeah," Roger said, turning from Mark to look at Benny. "I'm good."

Benny nodded, walking to the front of the stage to peek out the curtains. "Man, I'm glad you made me write instead of act. Thanks," he said, peering out at the crowd.

With Benny's back turned, Roger quickly looked around and then placed a warm palm against the small of Mark's back.

"Good luck," he whispered, and Mark smiled at him before stepping away.

"You, too," he said, catching Ms. Dalaine's eye. She nodded at him, smiling, and Mark clapped his hands together.

"Come on, everybody," he called softly. "On with the fucking show."

- - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - -

It went by dizzyingly fast, Mark standing in the dark wings beside Benny and his stomach tight with nervousness. But Maureen was fantastic, loud and confident. By the end of the show, Mark was grinning hugely. He clapped and whistled along with the rest of the audience – though Mark worried there had been a bit of a stunned silence when the lights went down.

But still, there was definite applause. Mark waited, the third group rushing onto the stage just as Mark's group barreled towards him. Maureen threw herself into Mark's arms.

"Oh my _god_!" She yelled.

Mark shushed her, laughing. "Maureen, shut up! The other group is about to go."

"Sorry," Maureen stage-whispered, her eyes wide. "But it was _so awesome_."

Mark smiled warmly at her. "You were wonderful."

Maureen reached up and grabbed Mark's face, pushing her lips wetly against his cheek. "You too. It was a good show."

Benny came up behind Mark. "Hey. You were great."

Maureen beamed. "Thanks!"

Mark looked around. "Where's Roger?"

Benny shrugged. "He's around here somewhere. Why?"

Mark shook his head, embarrassed, and saw Maureen wink behind Benny and then draw her hand across her mouth in a zipping gesture. Mark rolled his eyes.

He, Maureen and Benny watched their classmates' show from the wings, Maureen hanging onto his shoulder, occasionally glancing at Benny in the darkness.

When the lights went down again, the whole class assembled onstage to take a bow. Mark strode out, grinning, and gave Maureen an even bigger smile as she grabbed his and Benny's hands just before the lights went up again.

They took their bows together, the audience in front of them cheering – Mark could hear his mother over everyone else, and suddenly wished he'd stayed in the darkness of the wings – but Mark couldn't see Roger anywhere. As everyone else ran off the stage, breathless and giddy and laughing, Mark stalked through the wings. On the third try he found Roger.

"Hey, you," he said, walking up to him and smiling. "What are you doing hiding out? You should have bowed with the rest of us."

Roger smiled, face scrubbed clean. "Didn't wanna."

"I thought you'd jump at the chance to be in front of a cheering crowd," Mark said, teasing.

Roger grunted. "Yeah, if I was playing it might've been different. This," he waved a hand, "Was more about you. I didn't care so much."

"I didn't care, either," Mark protested. Roger grinned at him.

"You are such a fucking liar. I've seen you these past weeks – you loved the whole thing."

"It was okay," Mark said grudgingly, and Roger laughed.

"You're so full of it." Then he paused, looking down. Mark followed his gaze and only then noticed Roger had one hand behind his back.

"Whatcha got?" He asked curiously, trying to peer around Roger and see.

Roger pushed him back with his free hand. "Back off a second, and you might find out."

Mark stepped back and held out his hands. Roger sighed, but there was a tiny smile on his face. "Here."

He held out his hand, holding one red rose. Mark looked at the flower, then lifted his eyes to Roger again, his eyebrows shooting up.

"It's tradition," Roger said somewhat defensively. "Dalaine told me it was tradition to give the director flowers. I couldn't afford any more."

A slow grin had been spreading its way across Mark's face as Roger spoke. "That's … very cute."

"Shut up," Roger said, smiling and bringing his wrist close to his face, checking his watch. "It's not even nine yet. Wanna go somewhere?"

Mark nodded happily, and Roger took his hand, starting to lead him out of the theatre when Mark stopped short. 

"Fuck."

"What?"

"I forgot my mother's here."

- - - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Mrs. Cohen was preening over Benny. "So handsome! You've gotten so big, almost a man!"

Maureen was standing beside her, a little out of view and enjoying herself hugely as Mrs. Cohen reached forward to grab a bicep as they all stood together in the parking lot. Roger snorted and immediately regretted it when Mrs. Cohen instantly turned towards him.

"And you … you must be Roger. We have heard so much about you."

"Mom …"

"What?" She stepped forward and grabbed Mark's face, kissing him loudly on the cheek and then holding him in place by his shoulder as she licked the palm of her hand and smoothed his hair. "There. That's been bothering me all night."

"Mom!" Mark threw a panicked look Roger's way. Sure enough, Roger was laughing silently, Maureen leaning against him and stifling her giggles. Fuckers. Thank god he'd pressed his rose in the English textbook in his locker before they'd exited the school. He'd hated to do it – but he couldn't begin to imagine his mother's reaction to someone giving him a rose. Mark grimaced just thinking about it. At least this way he'd have it preserved.

"You were _wonderful_, honey," she said, suddenly turning to Maureen. Maureen and Roger quickly sobered up, and Benny took his chance to smirk at Maureen behind Mrs. Cohen's back.

"And you," she said, turning back to Mark and pulling him into a crushing hug. "What a lot of work! And what an impressive story!" She released him, looking thoughtful. "But why did the girl leave? And why did you leave it at that? Happy endings are so much more cheerful, sweetheart."

"I'll keep that in mind," Mark muttered, casting an evil look Maureen and Roger's way. He would never feel sorry for her again. And as for Roger …

We'll, he'd still make out with him, who was he kidding?

But maybe he'd bite him or something.

Mark looked away uncomfortably. Shit. Not good thoughts to have around his mother.

She was currently standing between Benny and Maureen. Roger ambled over to Mark, grinning.

"Shut up," Mark said automatically, watching his mother. She was holding onto Benny's shoulder and – was she – oh, fuck, was she _scolding_ him?

Yep. There was the wagging finger. Fuck.

Mark hurried over in time to see Maureen blush furiously. He should just leave her to suffer. But what was his mother saying?

"…Such a good little girl, always scraped her shoes before coming in. And always asking for permission to use the bathroom!" Mrs. Cohen giggled. "The number of times I heard her voice waking Mr. Cohen and I in the middle of the night … but so cute now, you know … she needs to be treated right …"

"Mom!" Mark jumped in, smirking inwardly at Maureen's relieved expression. She was so gonna owe him now. "Listen, it's getting kind of late, and we – we need to write up some post-show reports. While everything's still fresh in our minds."

Mrs. Cohen smiled at him. "Yes, dear. Have fun, and if you smoke pot I'll be able to smell it the instant you walk in the door." Mark stared at her, and she suddenly reached up and pinched the side of his ear.

"Ow! Mom!"

She grinned. "Don't lie to your mother. She always knows." With that she turned around and started walking away, rummaging in her purse. "And be home before eleven!" She called over her shoulder, and Mark simply waved.

He turned to find his friends staring at him. Benny was snickering.

"That was pathetic, even for you."

"Fuck you," Mark shot back. "She would have eventually started telling all your embarrassing stories, too. You should fucking thank me."

Benny just snorted, then glanced at Maureen, sidling up beside her and bumping her hip with his. "You were _such_ a good little girl," he mocked. "So what the hell happened?"

Maureen flashed him a flirty smile, and Mark ducked his head to hide his grin. "I met you. It was all downhill from there."

Benny snorted, and Roger came to stand next to Mark. He grinned wolfishly, flashing his teeth. "Your mom is a piece of work. Remind me to never do _anything_ around her."

Mark stared at him glumly. "She'll still find a way. We're powerless against her."

Roger leaned closer, making sure Maureen and Benny were still absorbed in each other before speaking quietly into Mark's ear. "Once when I was younger I was staying over at this kid's house and I wet the bed. It was the most embarrassing moment of my life."

Mark gazed up at him. Okay, it wasn't exactly a romantic story – but it was Roger trying to equalize the situation. If Maureen and Benny weren't here right now he would wrap his arms around Roger and press their bodies close together –

"Hey, Mark?"

Mark turned to see Maureen and Benny facing him. Maureen gave Mark a hugely exaggerated wink, giving a little jump. Mark smiled, shaking his head.

"I think we're gonna go, get some pizza or something. Wanna come?"

Mark shook his head. "Nah. But listen, you guys, you were great. You both did fantastic jobs, and – thanks."

Maureen threw herself at him. "It was fun! And it was great," she said, grinning. "Even if it did have a downer ending."

Mark shook his head, smiling. "But it was a happy ending, don't you see?" He said this quietly so Benny and Roger couldn't hear. "The audience just didn't get to see it, that's all."

Maureen giggled and kissed him on the cheek. "Watch out for those aliens."

"You too."

Benny walked over and clapped him on the shoulder, and then he and Maureen started walking together out of the parking lot. Roger stood beside him, his hand resting on Mark's lower back.

After a few moments, Mark noticed the light quality of the sky, starting to turn purple above them. He turned to Roger and put a hand on his back, tracing a circle.

"The roof?" He asked.

Roger nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "The roof."

- - - - - - - - - - -

- - - - - - - - - - -

In the past weeks, they'd come to the roof often, whenever they needed an escape – where no one could see or reach them and they had all the silence they could need.

Or when they wanted to make out.

Now they lay together on the sun-warmed cement that was just starting to cool, watching the sun glow more brightly as it began to set. It was almost summer now, and it was a beautiful night.

Mark looked over at Roger, who was staring up into the sky. He was beautiful. Mark sighed inwardly. He didn't want to bring this up. He wanted to reach over and kiss Roger and tangle and move their bodies together until everything in the whole fucking world was forgotten and Roger was the only thing that really existed.

He took a breath, deciding that could wait. "Rog?"

"Mmm?"

"Where are you going to school? In the fall?"

Roger snorted. "I'm not. I'm moving to the city and getting a band together. I'm gonna work mopping floors at any recording studio that will hire me and then make a demo." He looked over at Mark and grinned. "And then I'm gonna be a rock star. I was going to leave the second I graduated, but I think I'll stick around 'till September."

Mark gave him a tiny smile. "I'm going to Brown, you know."

Roger turned sharply. "You're not going to NYU?"

Mark shook his head. "Benny and me – we applied ages ago. And got in. We're going to be roommates," he finished a little lamely, feeling miserable. How had things changed so much, so quickly? Everything he'd thought he wanted then – it was just ashes now. Nothing. 

Roger wiggled a little closer to him. "Come with me."

"What?"

"Just – come with me. To the city. We can live together."

Mark could see it immediately. Forget going to school, forget homework and the stress of tests and the shithead professors and overdosing on caffeine just to get everything done … instead there was a soft sunset in Central Park, movies and plays and watching Roger play in smoky clubs, then going home together and crashing in some shit apartment, this feeling when they were together lasting forever.

Mark swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "I don't think my parents would like that very much."

Roger laughed. "It's not about making your parents happy – it's about doing what you want to do with your life."

Mark turned to face the sky above him, away from Roger, stunned. It was _so fucking stupid_, but he'd never actually thought about what he wanted to do with his life. There were all these assumptions about what he'd do that were just _accepted_, about what he was supposed to accomplish, without ever really defining it for himself. He never went further than knowing he had to make the grades to get into a good school.

Roger continued, looking at him intensely. "Just tell them all to fuck off and come with me."

Mark shook his head. "Benny and I – "

"What?"

"Well – everything's already all set up. And my parents – they – they would _castrate_ me."

Roger stared at him, eyes burning. "Fuck it. Fuck it all."

Mark shook his head slowly. "It's all been paid for already."

Roger exhaled, frustrated. "If you really wanted to – "

"I do want to," Mark interrupted him softly. "I just – university is really important – and maybe it will help me figure out what I want to do with my life."

"I have to go to the city," Roger said, a pained expression on his face. Mark scooted closer to him, raising himself up on one arm and leaning over to kiss Roger softly.

"I know."

Roger shook his head, not meeting Mark's eyes. "Now I don't want fall to come. I thought you'd be coming with me."

Mark rolled onto Roger, looking down into his face and smiling. "We've got the whole summer ahead of us."

Roger nodded silently, and Mark pressed their lips together again. Roger returned the kiss and deepened it, wrapping his arms around Mark and holding him close. Their tongues rolled against each other, and Mark moaned, running his hands over Roger's neck and into his hair. He broke away a bit and kissed Roger's eyebrow. Roger closed his eyes slowly, and Mark kissed his forehead, his cheek, the side of his neck.

He pulled back, looking down into Roger's eyes, and Roger reared up suddenly, desperately capturing Mark's mouth with his only to pull away and place slow open-mouthed kisses on Mark's neck, grasping his head and pulling him closer, kissing up to his ear, over his cheek, next to his eye. Every spot of skin Roger could reach he kissed, one hand on Mark's neck and the other on his back, holding him close against his body.

Mark chuckled breathlessly. "That tickles."

Roger smiled against his ear, speaking softly. "You feel good."

Mark closed his eyes, turned his head to kiss Roger's arm. "You, too."

Mark leaned down and kissed Roger gently once more, slowly exploring his mouth. When he pulled away, he smiled. "You taste good, too."

Roger smiled and then sighed, turning his head slightly away from Mark. 

"It's okay," Mark whispered, and Roger nodded, Mark gently guiding Roger's face back to him, lips lightly touching lips once more before rolling off the other boy, laying beside him and kissing his shoulder.

Roger smiled, and sat up a second, leaned over Mark and kissed his stomach. He lay back down and Mark turned so they were facing each other, Roger's eyes looking bright. 

"Promise, no matter what happens, we'll stay in touch – and when you're done school, you can find me and we'll live together. We can be roommates, taking on the big city together."

Mark smiled. "Brown isn't that far from the city."

Roger looked at him and nodded, swallowing. "I know. And it's only for a few years."

Mark nodded too, losing his smile and looking to the sky. "I just – "

"I know."

Roger looked away, then locked his eyes on Mark again. After a moment he slid over and rested his head on Mark's shoulder, wrapping one arm around Mark's body.

"We'll always be together, no matter what, right?"

Mark looked down at him, smiling softly, and leaned over to kiss Roger on the forehead again, just over his eyebrow, letting his lips linger against Roger's warm skin for a long time. Then he leaned back down and arranged himself so he could put an arm around his friend, cradling Roger's head in the crook of his elbow and his hand resting lightly on Roger's shoulder, pulling him close.

"No matter what," Mark promised, and they both lapsed into silence then, watching the sky steadily grow darker, wrapped in each other's arms until the huge red glow of the sun finally sank beneath the horizon.


End file.
